THE LEGACY OF TERABITHIA
by
Wordsmith
Chapter 11: What's In A Name?
Author's Note: Do you have any questions you'd like to ask me? Anything you'd like to discuss? Post to the Legacy Of Terabithia discussion thread on this site at h t t p: / / w w w . f a n f i c t i o n . n e t/topic/28532/10519566/1/ and I'll reply!
After Leslie hung up the phone, Grandma said, "You two going swimming tomorrow?"
"Yeah... if it's okay with you." She realized she should have asked for permission first. "Can I go?"
"Sure."
"Thanks. Jamie's meeting me here at nine tomorrow morning. We'll probably be back sometime in the afternoon. I'm going to make our picnic lunch. Oh, jeez... I have no idea what I'm going to make... or how to make it!"
"You did pretty well helping me make fried chicken. I think you could put together a nice lunch. You do much cooking at home?"
"I help Dad sometimes. He does most of the cooking. Mom's not much of a cook."
"Well, there's a surprise," Grandma said sarcastically. "Good thing your daddy picked up a few things watching me in the kitchen, or you all would be starving."
Leslie hated it when Grandma criticized Mom, but she didn't say anything. Grandma must have noticed Leslie's discomfort, because she quickly changed the subject.
"So, you have any ideas for your picnic lunch?"
"I guess I'll just make us some sandwiches."
"I hope you weren't planning on using that store-bought bread. There's only two slices and a crust piece left. Grandpa only buys it when it's on sale."
"Oh, no!" Leslie couldn't very well ask her grandfather to go out on a Sunday afternoon for bread. Now what would she do?
"You know," Grandma said, "There's plenty of flour. After supper tonight, why don't you make some homemade bread? I bet Jamie would love it."
"I don't know how to make bread."
"Well, I do! And I was planning on making some tonight. I hate that store-bought bread, but it is convenient. It's also expensive. A decent loaf of bread costs almost four dollars nowadays! And even then, it's still mostly air, fillers, and preservatives. For four dollars, I could make three or four loaves of homemade bread. It's better for you, and the taste... well, you'll see!"
"Wow! You make your own bread? But... isn't it complicated?"
"No, honey!" Grandma laughed. "It's easy when you know the basics. And tonight, I'm going to teach you. We'll start with a simple, homemade white bread."
"Great! Thanks!"
Leslie couldn't wait to make homemade bread. At dinner, she wolfed down her food. After her grandparents had their coffee and the dishes were done, Grandma said, "All right, now – are you ready to make some bread?"
"Yes!"
"Good. First, we wash our hands real well with soap and cold water, then dry them off completely. After that, in the cabinet under the oven, you'll find a big glass bowl. Fetch it for me, will you?"
"Sure."
After they both washed up at the sink, Leslie got out the bowl and put it on the table. Grandma started gathering the ingredients. She brought out her flour can, the sugar bowl, a small ramekin filled with salt, and a can of vegetable shortening. The she opened a drawer and took out two packets of active dry yeast.
"This recipe makes two loaves. I learned it from my mother – your great-grandmother. First, we proof the yeast."
From a cabinet, Grandma took out her glass measuring cup. Then she ran some water. She held her finger under the tap. "That's warm enough, I reckon. I can tell with my finger, but you might want to use a thermometer. Look in the drawer where I got the yeast."
Leslie opened the drawer. The thermometer was a gauge perched on top of a five-inch long metal rod. She gave it to Grandma, who stuck it into the measuring cup. The indicator moved up to 115 degrees. "The water has to be about 110 to 120 degrees or so to activate the yeast. This is just a half-cup of water for proofing."
Grandma took out the thermometer, then poured the water into the big glass bowl. Then she opened the yeast packets and poured them in. The little brown yeast globules floated on the surface. Grandma went to her utility drawer and took out a set of measuring spoons, a wire whisk, and a big metal spoon.
Leslie watched as Grandma added a pinch of sugar to the yeast mixture, then whisked it all together.
"The sugar feeds the yeast and starts it going. There's an additional three tablespoons of sugar in the recipe. That keeps it going and makes the dough rise. We'll let it set for a few minutes while we measure the flour. This recipe calls for seven cups."
Grandma showed Leslie how to measure the flour and scrape off the excess with the blunt side of a butter knife. They measured the seven cups of flour into two smaller ceramic bowls. In one of the bowls, Grandma added the three tablespoons of sugar and a tablespoon of salt and mixed it into the flour.
"Look at the yeast," Grandma said. "See that?"
The yeast mixture had become thick and frothy, like the head on root beer.
Grandma took the glass measuring cup and filled it with 1 and ¾ cups of warm water. She had Leslie measure it with the thermometer.
"115 degrees again! Wow, Grandma - you really know your stuff!"
"All the water you add must be warm, or the dough won't rise right."
Grandma set the water aside and opened the can of vegetable shortening. She scooped out two tablespoons of shortening and popped them into the yeast mixture. Then she added one of the bowls of flour.
"All right, pour in the water and stir it up a bit with the big spoon."
Leslie did as she was told. Then Grandma added the other bowl of flour.
"Stir it up real good until the dough comes together. Be sure to scrape the sides of the bowl. We want all that flour go into the dough."
Leslie stirred and scraped and stirred some more, until the ingredients came together in a coarse, lumpy dough. Grandma used her finger to scrape off the bits of dough that clung to the spoon. Then she kneaded the dough in the bowl a few times before taking it out.
"Measure a half-tablespoon of flour, sprinkle it on the counter, and spread it around."
"Okay, Grandma."
Grandma set the dough down on the floured surface and showed Leslie how to knead it.
"See what I'm doing? Turn the dough, lift it up, then push it down and away from you with your palms. Then turn, lift, and push again. Turn, lift, and push. You try it."
As she kneaded the dough, Leslie felt it change in her hands. The coarse, mealy dough became smoother and smoother. She loved the way it felt.
"You're doing great, dear! Just knead it like that for about eight minutes or so."
Grandma got out her kitchen timer and set it. Leslie kept kneading. When the timer went off, Grandma took over and kneaded the dough a couple more times. Then she shaped it into a ball.
They washed the big glass bowl and dried it. Grandma drizzled a little olive oil in the bottom and spread it around until the whole bowl was coated. "That's so the dough won't stick," she said.
Grandma put the ball of dough into the glass bowl, rolled it around, then covered the bowl with two sheets of Saran wrap. Then she put it on top of the refrigerator. "It's nice and warm up there."
"How long does it take to rise?"
"You have to rise it twice, once in the bowl, and once in the bread pans. Each rise is about an hour long. Some doughs take longer to rise."
After she helped Grandma clean up, Leslie went to her room and tried to read more of The Amber Spyglass. But she kept thinking about the dough and the lunch she was going to make for herself and Jamie. Her worries distracted her to the point that she put down the book and decided to go watch TV with her grandfather.
Grandpa was watching a football game. "Redskins and Cowboys," he told her. He sat in the recliner with his feet up. Leslie plopped down on the couch. Just then, the Redskins' receiver caught a pass, dodged the Cowboys' defense and ran into the end zone.
"Touchdown!" Grandpa cried. "All right! That gets us ahead again. Dallas scored a touchdown in the third quarter to tie the game. Now it's the fourth with five minutes left to go. I'm glad they went for the touchdown and not a field goal. Now we have a bigger lead to work with."
Touchdowns, field goals, downs, completions, lines of scrimmage – Leslie never could understand football. It was kind of exciting, though. She watched as the Redskins kicked the ball back to the Cowboys. The Cowboys' receiver managed to run about thirty yards before he got tackled. He hit the turf hard.
Ooh! Leslie thought. That's gotta hurt!
"Leslie!" Grandma called out. "Leslie, come here and see your dough!"
Leslie got off the couch and ran into the kitchen.
"Has it been an hour already?"
"Yep. Look."
The ball of dough had become a huge blob that threatened to run over the sides of the big glass bowl. Grandma took the bowl off the top of the refrigerator and put it on the table. She peeled back the Saran and stuck a finger into the dough. The impression stuck.
"You see? That means the first rise is done. Let's take it out and over to the counter. I've already got the bread pans sprayed."
There was a knife on the counter. Grandma used it to cut the dough into two equal pieces. She took once piece and flattened it with her palms. Then she shaped it into a rectangle about as long as the bread pan.
"Now, we fold the top down two-thirds of the way," Grandma said, "Then we fold the bottom third up and seal both ends."
The dough looked something like a log. Grandma put it into the pan and pressed down a little to even it out. "Okay, now you do the other one."
Leslie flattened the other piece of dough, shaped it, and folded it. She sealed the ends and put it into the pan.
"Perfect! See how easy it is? There's just one more thing to do before we set them for the second rise."
Grandma brought the bread pans to the table. The butter dish was there from dinner. Grandma went to the utility drawer and brought out a brush that looked like a little whisk broom.
"This is a pastry brush," she explained. She brushed a little butter off the top of the soft stick and spread it across the tops of the bread dough. Then she put the Saran wrap from the bowl over both pans and placed them on top of the refrigerator.
Leslie watched the rest of the football game with Grandpa, then went back to her room and her book. After the hour was up, Grandma called her out again. The bread pans were on the counter. The dough had risen high and filled up each pan. Instead of logs, they looked like... well, loaves of bread.
"Now we bake 'em for about twenty-five minutes at 425 degrees. The oven is preheating now."
When the oven beeped, Grandma put the loaves in to bake. Leslie went to her room and tried to read some more of The Amber Spyglass. She had gotten through a couple of chapters when a heavenly scent wafted in under her door – the sweet, yeasty musk of fresh baked bread. It smelled so good that she couldn't stand it. She went into the kitchen.
"Just a few more minutes to go," said Grandma. "Oh! I forgot to get out the cooling racks! They're in the bottom cabinet of the china hutch. Get them, will you?"
Leslie got out the cooling racks and set them on the table. Grandma put on her oven mitts, opened the oven, and slid out the shelf. She knocked on the top of each loaf. They sounded hard and hollow. "You hear that? It means that the bread is done."
Grandma took each pan to the cooling racks and turned it over to release the bread. Then she turned the loaves right-side up. They looked like the pictures of bread in a cookbook – perfectly formed and deep golden brown.
"You want to try a piece, honey?"
"Yeah!"
Grandma sliced off the crust piece, buttered it, then cut it half. She handed the halves to Leslie. She took a big bite of one. It was so delicious – better than anything you could get in a store.
"Do I smell fresh baked bread?"
It was Grandpa. Leslie gave him the other half of the crust piece.
"Mmm! You always did make a great loaf of bread," he said to Grandma.
"True... but your granddaughter made these loaves."
"You made this?" Grandpa asked Leslie.
"Well... Grandma helped."
"You did most of the work, dear."
"Thanks for showing me how, Grandma."
"Sure. If you like, I'll write the recipe down so you can make it at home."
"Would you? Thanks!"
"After the loaves are cool, I'll wrap 'em up, then write down the recipe."
Wait until Jamie has a sandwich on this bread, Leslie thought. She was so excited that when she went to bed, it took her a long time to fall asleep.
The next morning, Leslie woke to the sounds of someone rummaging around up in the attic. When she opened her door, the ladder was unfolded and the attic light was on. Just then, the light went out, and Grandma climbed down. She had a wicker basket in her hand.
"Morning, dear. Did I wake you? I figured I'd fetch the picnic set for you."
"Thanks. Here, let me help you fold up the ladder."
Grandma put down the basket, then they folded up the ladder and clicked it place in the ceiling. Leslie picked up the basket and looked through it. It had pockets filled with silverware and plenty of room for food, but there were two things missing.
"There's no thermos and no blanket, Grandma."
"It didn't come with a thermos. We just used Grandpa's coffee thermos – the one he took to work. The blanket got tore up years ago. But there's an old red-and-white checkered tablecloth in the linen closet you can use. It's vinyl, so it don't tear or stain easy."
They brought the picnic set to the kitchen. Leslie had a bowl of Rice Krispies with banana slices for breakfast while Grandma washed the silverware. "Don't know if you'll need 'em, but they need a washin' either way. What kind of sandwiches you want to make?"
"Peanut butter. Do you have blackberry jam?"
"No, but you might want to try my homemade strawberry preserves. Jar's in the fridge."
After she chugged her orange juice, Leslie went to the refrigerator. She found the jar of preserves. Leslie opened it and tried a fingerful. "Mmm! Yum!"
Grandma cut four slices of bread. Leslie made two peanut butter and strawberry preserve sandwiches. She got out three Ziploc sandwich bags – two for the sandwiches and one for munchies. "Do you have anything to nibble on, Grandma? Chips or something?"
"There's a big bag of potato chips in the cabinet."
Leslie found it and put some of the chips into a sandwich bag.
"What about dessert?" Grandma asked. "How about some of my oatmeal raisin cookies?"
"Great," Leslie said. She got out another sandwich bag and put four cookies in it from Grandma's cookie tin. "Do you still have Grandpa's thermos?"
"In the cabinet under the oven."
Leslie took out the thermos, filled it with water and added two tablespoons of iced tea mix. Then she stirred it up, screwed the cap on tight and put the thermos in the refrigerator.
The back door opened, and Grandpa came into the kitchen. He had a newspaper under his arm and a scowl on his face.
"Goddamned rabbits been chewing on our vegetables again," he said to Grandma. "If I ever catch 'em in the act, we'll be having hasenpfeffer for supper."
"What's hasenpfeffer?" Leslie asked.
"German rabbit stew," said Grandpa. "Good eatin'."
"Eww! Oh, you wouldn't really kill those poor rabbits – would you, Grandpa?"
"They're vermin, honey. And a pain in the ass."
Leslie snickered. Grandma gave Grandpa a dirty look. He smiled and winked at Leslie, then sat down at the table to read his newspaper.
It was 8:15AM. Leslie went to get ready. She washed her face and brushed her teeth and hair. Then she changed into her bathing suit and put a t-shirt and shorts on over it. She put on her socks and sneakers, then checked herself out in the mirror one last time. She got a towel from the linen closet and slung it around her neck like a scarf.
Leslie waited until just before nine to take the thermos out of the fridge. She packed it in the picnic basket along with the food, the tablecloth, two napkins, and two plastic cups.
As usual, Jamie was fashionably late. He knocked on the door around 9:05.
"Hi, Leslie! Ready to go?"
He wore a t-shirt and bathing trunks. There was a towel slung around his neck.
"Hi! All ready!" She showed him the picnic basket.
"What did you make for lunch?"
"It's a surprise. I think you'll like it."
"I'm sure I will. C'mon, let's go!"
"Bye, Grandma! Bye Grandpa!" Leslie called to them. "I'll be back this afternoon."
"Bye!"
After they left, Jamie said, "Here, let me carry the basket for you."
"Okay... but only if you promise not to peek inside."
"I promise, milady. And as you know, a knight's word is his bond."
She gave him the basket and they headed for the dirt road.
They walked down the old dirt road, through the woods, past the sandpit, then up the hill and through the trees to Jamie's street. Then they walked down the street, out of the neighborhood, and down the main road.
"You know, I was thinking about this all through church. Going swimming with you, I mean. It helped me get through the service. I know it was only one day, but I missed you."
"I missed you too, Jamie."
Leslie thought again about what would happen when she had to go back to Washington. She quickly put the thought out of her mind. She didn't want anything to spoil this day.
When they walked past the big farm and its cow pasture, Jamie mooed at the cows. One of them mooed back at him and Leslie broke up laughing.
"You... you're crazy!"
"Maybe. Or maybe I'm the only one who's not. Think about it."
They passed the tall corn silos. As they reached the fork in the road near the bridge, Leslie could hear the whooshing of the waterfall. They turned left, walked over the bridge, then took the path into the woods. Jamie led her down the hill to their little beach. The sweet, earthy perfume of fresh water was heavy in the air.
"Ah! The Enchanted Cove!" cried Jamie. He put the picnic basket down. Leslie took out the tablecloth and spread it out. She put the basket on the tablecloth and slipped out of her shirt, shorts, socks, and shoes. Jamie took off his shirt and tossed it onto the tablecloth.
"Shall we?"
"Let's!"
Jamie ran through the water and dove in. Leslie followed him, but the icy sting drew her back. Jamie's head popped up in the middle of the creek.
"Oh, I forgot! You have to get used to the water!"
"Vuh-Very fuh-funny!"
Leslie's teeth chattered as she stood waist-deep in the water, shivering. Jamie swam over, then walked up to her.
"You want me to warm you up again?"
"I'll buh-be okay."
"Are you sure you don't want me to warm you up?" Jamie asked. He smiled at her. His blue eyes were glistening.
"Well... maybe juh-just a little." She smiled back at him.
Jamie ran his hands up and down Leslie's arms to get rid of her goosebumps. Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
Leslie closed her eyes and felt his warmth move through her like microwaves. An invisible force seemed to draw her to him until she could feel her lips touch his. They pressed into each other, and a swift surge of warmth coursed through Leslie's veins. She saw visions and heard symphonies and...
And then it was over. Leslie opened her eyes. She and Jamie stared at each other blankly for a moment, then snapped out of their trance.
"I think I'm warm enough," said Leslie.
"Me, too," said Jamie.
They dove into the water.
As they swam around, Leslie asked "How far have you swum out? Have you ever gone under the bridge to the other side?"
"Sure. But the creek goes for miles before it comes back to the waterfall."
"You want to swim out a little?"
"Okay. We'll go under the bridge, then down a ways and around those houses."
"Cool!"
Leslie let Jamie lead the way. She followed him as they swam under the bridge and followed the creek on the other side. As they swam past the houses, Leslie could see where some small piers and docks had been built, as well as a few levees to protect the houses from a flood.
They came to another little stretch of beach, and Jamie said, "Once, when I was swimming around here, I saw two teenagers getting into the water. They were skinny dipping! The girl screamed when she saw me, but the guy – her boyfriend, I think – laughed his head off!"
"I bet you liked what you saw," Leslie said sarcastically.
"I appreciate beauty in all its forms."
"Yeah, right! Just don't get any funny ideas, mister!"
They looked at each other and laughed.
Jamie and Leslie swam up and down the stretch of creek. Sometimes, they dove underwater and glided hand-in-hand through the depths. Soon, it was time for lunch.
They swam back to the Enchanted Cove and got out of the water.
Leslie unpacked their lunch. She handed Jamie a sandwich and poured him a cup of iced tea.
"Hey," Jamie asked. "Is this homemade bread?"
"Yup."
Jamie took a bite. "Mmm! This is so good! The crust is crunchy and buttery, but the bread is soft. I love the strawberry jam."
"That's my grandma's strawberry preserves. She made them herself. I made the bread."
"You made this bread?"
Leslie nodded yes.
"Marry me."
Leslie laughed so hard she almost choked on her bite of sandwich. "I would gladly grant thee my hand in marriage, my knight."
"You really made this bread?"
"I really did. Grandma helped, but I did most of the work."
"It's delicious. Much better than store bought."
"Thanks. I hoped you'd like it."
They munched on the potato chips, then ate the oatmeal-raisin cookies. Leslie packed their trash up in the basket. Then, she and Jamie stretched out next to each other on the tablecloth. She rested her head on Jamie's chest.
"I can hardly wait until Wednesday night. Have you been to the fireworks at Millsburg Stadium before?"
"A couple of times."
"What's it like?"
"Well, Millsburg Stadium is owned by both the city and the school district. The high school football team plays all their home games at the Stadium, but it's also got a running track. They have track and field competitions, outdoor concerts, all kinds of events. I've been to the fireworks a couple of times. It's a pretty good show. They sell food there, too. The fried dough guy makes the best fried dough I've ever had. If he's there again, I'll get us a couple pieces. He fries 'em up golden brown and sprinkles powdered sugar on top... oh, you gotta try it!"
"Mmm! I love fried dough!"
Leslie sighed and stared out at the water.
"A penny for your thoughts?" Jamie asked.
"I was just thinking about... you know, when I have to go back to Washington. What am I going to do without you?"
"Don't think about that now. Cross that bridge when you come to it."
"It isn't easy, you know - being Jess Aarons' daughter and being named after Leslie Burke. When I was in first grade, I got invited to Zoe McKinney's seventh birthday party. She was the most popular girl in class, so I was really excited to get an invitation. I got her a present and when the day came, Mom dropped me off at the party. As soon as I walked in the door, Zoe asked me where my dad was. She thought he'd be coming, too. She was really disappointed when I showed up without him. I spent the whole party either answering questions about Dad, his books, and Leslie Burke, or being ignored completely. I knew then that they were only interested in me because of who my father was. If I wasn't Jess Aarons' daughter, I wouldn't have even been invited. All they care about is celebrity. I thought they were phonies. I didn't want anything to do with them – or anyone else. Then I met you."
"I know. It's the same with me and my brother. It's always been Zack this and Zack that. All I hear about is my brother and how great he is. I didn't want anything to do with anyone, either. I just wanted to be left alone so I could play my keyboard in peace. Nobody else cared about my music, anyway – except Uncle Steve. Then I met you. Now, I don't want to be alone anymore."
"Me neither."
"You know, it may be a drag sometimes, being Jess Aarons' daughter and being named after Leslie Burke, but Leslie Aarons is a pretty cool person. I always liked the name Leslie. Do you know what it means?"
"No, I don't. What does it mean?"
"Joy."
"Joy... I like that. How did you know that Leslie means joy?"
"Last year, Helen – one of my mom's girlfriends – had a baby shower. It was her third kid, and she didn't know what to name it, so Mom got her one of those baby name books. It lists hundreds of girls' and boys' names and what they mean. Helen forgot and left the book at our house, so the next day, I started reading it."
"What does Jesse mean?"
"Gift."
"And what does Jamie mean?"
"Well... actually... Jamie isn't my real first name. It's a nickname."
"What is your real first name, then?"
"Jameson. My name is Jameson Byrne."
"Jameson? Hey, that's cool! It sounds sophisticated, like... like if you became a doctor, you'd be Jameson Byrne, MD. Or if you were a lawyer, you'd be Jameson Byrne, esquire – Attorney At Law. Or the famous art critic Jameson Byrne... or the renowned concert pianist Jameson Byrne!"
"I like that last one!"
"What does Jameson mean?"
"Son of James. Which makes no sense because my dad's name is John. John Byrne, Jr., that is. Dad always hated being a junior. When they were kids, Uncle Steve would call him John Boy, like that guy on the old TV show, The Waltons. Dad really hated that!"
Leslie and Jamie both laughed.
"But what's in a name, anyway?" Jamie asked. "You're more than just a name."
"I know."
"Well I think we've rested long enough. Let's go back in the water!"
"Okay!"
They walked hand-in-hand together into the water, then dove under and into the depths.
